The Day Is Ending, The Night Is Descending; The Marsh Is Frozen, The River Dead. Through Clouds Like Ashes The Red Sun Flashes On Village Windows That Glimmer Red. The Snow Recommences; The Buried Fences Mark No Longer The Road O'Er The Plain; While Through The Meadows, Like Fearful Shadows, Slowly Passes A Funeral Train. The Bell Is Pealing, And Every Feeling Within Me Responds To The Dismal Knell; Shadows Are Trailing, My Heart Is Bewailing And Tolling Within Like A Funeral Bell.